


Jefferson Refuted

by femilton



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 04:05:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13562445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femilton/pseuds/femilton
Summary: Prompt: “Can you do a A. ham x reader where she’s there during the 2nd cabinet battle and like she’s much more intrigued by him then by Jefferson and she laughs at Jefferson at one point and Jeff tries to like embarrass her and then Hamilton was about to stand up for her when she went off on Jeff and then Hamilton was like damn I need me a girl like that!?”





	Jefferson Refuted

Being the favorite cousin of the president had its perks. After much speculation, George had agreed to let you attend one of his cabinet meetings, and you were thrilled. As a young woman, you had little say in political matters, but that didn’t keep you from being interested in them anyway. You had devoured every book on politics that George had in his extensive library, and were ready to see them in action.

“Now, y/n,” George warned as he escorted you into the room where the meetings were held, “you must remember that these meetings are not very, well, woman-friendly. It would be best for you to be silent and ignore any crude comments that these men will make.”

“They’re politicians that you hand-selected, George. How bad can they be?” 

Your cousin laughed, though his eyes revealed he was quite tense. “Just sit quietly, alright? Don’t draw attention to yourself.” You nodded, pressing your lips together. You hated being a woman sometimes, forced to be proper and on guard for men who might take advantage of you at any time. You wanted to be a politician, helping to found the great new nation of the United States of America by your cousin’s side.

George showed you to a seat near the wall, patting your shoulder before to the table surrounded by politicians and taking his seat. You attempted to get comfortable in your tight dress and giant skirt, pulling out a small notebook to take notes on the meeting.

“The meeting will now come to order,” George said, immediately commanding the attention of all the men.  _ He truly is a perfect president _ , you thought. You couldn’t imagine anyone better for the job. “The first issue on the table: France is in the midst of a civil war. Should we send money and troops to our allies, or stay out of it?”

The man directly to the left of George leaned back in his seat, with a cocky smirk -- though you weren’t sure if the smirk itself lent the aura of cockiness, or if it was his purple velvet suit and wild mass of hair that created the feeling. “Mr. President, I believe I have some words of wisdom to shine on this situation.”

George sighed. “Go ahead, Secretary Jefferson.” You recognized the name -- Jefferson was Secretary of State, and one of the two men in the Cabinet that George referred to as “a pain in the ass.” You smiled, watching the secretary stand up as George ran a head across his bald head in exasperation.

“Remember the war on our soil?” Jefferson began, starting to pace back and forth. He gestured to the meek-looking man who had sat to his left, the man standing behind Jefferson and blowing his nose. Moral support? You weren’t sure. But it certainly looked like the man wanted to go home -- his face read nothing but misery and illness.  _ Cocky or miserable _ , you wrote.  _ Politicians are one or the other _ .

“We would not have won the war against Britain if it had not been for French aid. They gave us money. They gave us guns. They gave us half a damn chance!” Jefferson stopped, fixing his gaze on the man in the green suit, who was looking at him with pure spite. “In our time of need, we signed a treaty with France, agreeing to aid them in their fights as they did for us. We  _ owe _ them, Mr. President.” Jefferson turned to George, hand on his hip. “It is our duty to send aid to our French allies. If we lose them, what happens when another war breaks out?” He turned back to his uncomfortable friend at this, fixing a steely gaze.

His friend sighed. “Mr. President, my colleague is right. We must send aid to France. It is in the best interest for our national defense.”

George sighed. “Thank you, Secretary Jefferson and Mr. Madison. Would anyone like to debate for the alt--”

Before he could finish, the man in the green suit had darted up from his seat. He was short -- nearly as short as yourself -- but his eyes held the fire of a thousand men.

“Mr. President, Secretary Jefferson is making a ridiculous point here. We signed the treaty with a king who is now dead. I mean, his damn head is in a basket. Should we really be expected to uphold this agreement?”

“Damn it, Hamilton, yes! We signed the treaty  _ for _ the people of France, which very much still exist,” Jefferson retorted. Hamilton -- you recognized his name as well. The second pain in George’s ass, archrival of Jefferson. This should be interesting.

“Jefferson, we don’t have the goddamn budget to send funds to France. Did you forget that we just went through a war ourselves? We have no finances.”

“Hamilton, this is a foreign affairs issue. As Secretary of State, it is my jurisdiction to make the decision, not yours. Sit down.” You were fed up. This was as much of a Treasury issue as a State issue. You stood up, hands shaking, avoiding George’s gaze as you retaliated.

“Secretary Jefferson, this issue applies as much to the Secretary of the Treasury as it does the Secretary of the State. If you intend to send aid to the French, who is going to provide the funds?  _ That _ is Secretary Hamilton’s jurisdiction.” You turned to Hamilton, who was regarding you with pure admiration. You felt your face burn and averted your gaze to the other secretary.

“Sorry, little miss, but you must be mistaken,” Jefferson said, raising his eyebrows. God, you wanted to slap that smirk off his face right now. “Why don’t you go back to your sewing or whatever, and let the  _ men _ handle the real business.”

“Secretary Jefferson, since you find it necessary to bring my gender into the discussion, might I remind you that as a woman, it is my role to clean up the messes you men make? Frankly, sir, your plan is terrible. We have neither the finances nor the goods to fund a foreign war.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Sit down, darlin’, maybe we can talk later over tea.” He winked at you, and you laughed.

“Seems to me, sir, that I know more about the issue than yourself.”

Jefferson stood up. “Alright, lady, listen --”

“Jefferson, the lady is right.” You hadn’t even notice that Hamilton had stood, making his way over so that he and Jefferson were nearly chest to chest. It was almost comical, the difference in their heights; but what he lacked in height, Hamilton made up for in pure passion. “We don’t have the funds for this. The only result that will be obtained from contributing to this war is a loss of money and war materials we should be using for our own troops. We cannot send aid to France.”

“What about Lafayette? Did you forget about him? He  _ needs _ our help, Hamilton. Are you going to deny him that in favor of some rude woman who doesn’t know shit about politics?”

“Lafayette is one of the smartest and most resourceful men I’ve ever met. As for the lady, she seems to know more about politics than you do, Jefferson,” Hamilton sneered.

“Gentlemen,  _ please _ sit down,” warned George. You knew by his tone and the way he glared at the two men that he was pissed; however, the other men seemed unfazed. Was this a common occurrence. “Y/n, you too.” You nodded, smoothing your skirt down so you could sit in your seat.

“As for the issue at hand,” George said, looking around at the men around the table, “Hamilton and Y/n are correct. We do not have the funds to participate in this rebellion -- especially since it is not even a full-out war. The French people will have to help themselves in this skirmish.”

“But Mr. President, sir --” Jefferson started.   
“Enough, Jefferson. The meeting is adjourned, gentlemen. I will see you all Thursday.” The men began to file out of the room, picking up their papers and muttering. You realized you hadn’t taken many notes, and began trying to fill in things while they were fresh in your brain.  _ America does not have the money to send to foreign countries at this time, especially if there is not a full-on war. Though this breaks the treaty with France, it is in the best interest… _

“Miss Y/n?” Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice, and you looked up to see none other than Secretary Hamilton, standing over you as you scribbled your ideas. You stood, setting your notepad to the side and smoothing out your dress.

“Secretary Hamilton, it is truly a pleasure to meet you.” You went to curtsey, but before you could, Hamilton had grabbed your hand and was placing a gentle kiss on it. A shiver ran up your arm, and you blushed.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Y/n.”

“Please, just call me Y/n.”

“Then I must insist that you call me Alexander.” He grinned, his wide smile lighting up the room and making your heart flutter.

“Thank you, Alexander, for supporting my argument. I know it was not ladylike.”

“Y/n, I don’t care if it was improper. You’re passionate and extremely smart, I can tell. You’re exactly the kind of woman I want to be with, and to raise my daughters to be like.”

You blushed. “What are you saying, Alexander?”

He grasped your hand in both of his, warm brown eyes meeting yours. “May I write to you, Y/n? I know this may be sudden, but I am completely enamored with you, and I want to get to know you better.”

You smiled. “Of course, Alexander.” He gave your hand one last squeeze before walking away, and you met George’s eyes as Alexander left the room. You knew the blush on your cheeks was evident, but you didn’t care. This was the start of something wonderful.


End file.
